


The Nightmare Begins

by breathe_out



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Depression, Hurt No Comfort, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathe_out/pseuds/breathe_out
Summary: Kieren dies alone, inside a cold and dark place that used to be a sanctuary.
Relationships: Rick Macy/Kieren Walker
Kudos: 6





	The Nightmare Begins

Kieren stared at the knife’s blade, appalled by his own darkening thoughts. It glinted in the candlelight like a beacon. His skin itched as he examined the serrated edge. His own pale, drawn face gazed back at him in its reflection. He drew in a shuddering breath of the cavern’s stale, moist air. His eyes were puffy and red from crying, but now he was lost in a grief too deep for tears. 

His heart felt like a heavy weight in his chest. It restricted his lungs and made it difficult to breathe. The ache of Rick’s absence seemed to leave a raw, festering wound deep inside him. He stared listlessly at the stone wall where he and Rick had carved their names with painstaking care so long ago. They had shared a chaste kiss afterwards. Kieren choked back a desperate, heartbroken moan of agony. The pleasant memory was a sharp shard of glass that ripped him into tiny shreds.

Rick’s sudden leave of absence had been enough to bring him to his knees, but his family’s insistent ignorance had broken him down completely. Neither of his parents truly understood the delicate bond that he and Rick had shared. His father’s blatant refusal to accept their secretive relationship had been easy to ignore before. Now it was unbearable. Everyone seemed to expect him to move on, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Amidst a cloud of judgement in his own hometown, Kieren had fled to the last spot that he and Rick had shared together. His chaotic thoughts came to a crescendo in the eerie interior of the cavern. Once it had been a safe haven, where delicate touches and gentle affection kept the darkness at bay. After Rick left, an unnatural quiet had swelled inside the cave. All their happier memories were gone.

The emotions rolled over him in waves: anger, betrayal, sadness – all simmering inside his belly like acid. They mixed into a concoction of poisonous self hatred until even his own mind was pinned against him. 

A singular thought shone brighter than the rest, like a torch illuminating the dark: _Everyone would be better off without me._

The words struck him hard. They made his entire body tremble with a desperate longing for comfort that he would not receive. A dry sob wracked him as he pulled his knees up to his chest. He realized, for the first time in his entire short life, that he did not matter at all. He was insignificant. The ugly truth oozed through the cracks of his exhausted psyche and gripped him tight.

Kieren was absolutely, undeniably alone. 

When his throat burned and he had cried himself hoarse, Kieren reached for the knife. An abrupt emptiness had sucked away his feelings, leaving a unwavering resolve in their wake. He carefully flipped the blade out of it’s sheath. Briefly, he reminisced over the day that his father had given him the knife. It had been months ago, on a breezy summer afternoon. The clouds had parted in a rare effort to let the sun shine down on their dreary little village. That night, in the security of their hidden cave, he and Rick had shared a bottle and messed around. They were both smiling ear to ear back then. 

He pushed his sleeves up until they bunched in the crook of his elbows. The underside of his forearms looked like blank canvases in the flickering flames. All he had to do was paint the first stroke.

He placed the chilled edge of the blade against one wrist. Before he could feel afraid, Kieren moved the knife across his skin. It cleaved through his flesh like warm butter. The shallow, jagged cut dripped with blood. It congregated in crimson pools and drenched the sandy stones below his knees. The cave spun in nauseating circles, but Kieren stayed upright long enough to shift the weapon into his other hand. The handle was slippery with his blood. The severed muscles and tendons in his arm strained to properly grip the knife. His deft fingers grappled for purchase, until he managed to finally jam the blade into the opposite unmarked wrist. He dragged it across, shaking uncontrollably all the while. 

Relief flooded him as dizziness numbed his pain. He allowed the knife to finally slip from his hands. He swayed and toppled onto the floor of the cave. A fog was settling over his brain and he welcomed it. The blaze in both his wrists was fading into a dull beat. His thready pulse felt like a slow drum under his skin. 

Distantly, as if in a dream, he watched his own blood congeal in the sand. Nearby the candle light stuttered. Wax was gathering in the base and threatening to extinguish the flame. Shadows danced across the cavern in strange shapes. 

Kieren used the last remnants of his strength to look at the carving on the wall, pondering the life that he and Rick could have shared together.


End file.
